The History of Tom Jones (Penguin Classics)

by Henry Fielding

  Just as Sophia arrived at the Conclusion of her Story, there arrived in the Room where the two Ladies were sitting, a Noise, not unlike, in Loudness, to that of a Pack of Hounds just let out from their Kennel; nor, in Shrillness, to Cats, when caterwauling; or, to Screech-Owls; or, indeed, more like (for what Animal can resemble a human Voice?) to those Sounds, which, in the pleasant Mansions of that Gate, which seems to derive its Name from a Duplicity of Tongues, issue from the Mouths, and sometimes from the Nostrils of those fair River Nymphs, ycleped of old the Naïades; in the vulgar Tongue translated Oyster-Wenches:1 For when, instead of the antient Libations of Milk and Honey and Oil, the rich Distillation from the Juniper-Berry, or perhaps, from Malt, hath, by the early Devotion of their Votaries, been poured forth in great Abundance, should any daring Tongue with unhallowed License prophane; i.e. depreciate the delicate fat Milton Oyster,2 the Plaice sound and firm, the Flounder as much alive as when in the Water, the Shrimp as big as a Prawn, the fine Cod alive but a few Hours ago, or any other of the various Treasures, which those Water-Deities, who fish the Sea and Rivers, have committed to the Care of the Nymphs, the angry Naïades lift up their immortal Voices, and the prophane Wretch is struck deaf for his Impiety.

  Such was the Noise, which now burst from one of the Rooms below; and soon the Thunder, which long had rattled at a Distance, began to approach nearer and nearer, ’till, having ascended by Degrees up Stairs, it at last entered the Apartment where the Ladies were. In short, to drop all Metaphor and Figure, Mrs. Honour having scolded violently below Stairs, and continued the same all the Way up, came in to her Mistress in a most outrageous Passion, crying out, ‘What doth your Ladyship think? Would you imagine, that this impudent Villain, the Master of this House, hath had the Impudence to tell me, nay, to stand it out to my Face, that your Ladyship is that nasty, stinking Wh—re, (Jenny Cameron they call her) that runs about the Country with the Pretender? Nay, the lying, saucy Villain, had the Assurance to tell me, that your Ladyship had owned yourself to be so: But I have clawed the Rascal; I have left the Marks of my Nails in his impudent Face. ‘My Lady!’ says I, ‘you saucy Scoundrel: My Lady is Meat for no Pretenders. She is a young Lady of as good Fashion, and Family, and Fortune, as any in Somersetshire. Did you never hear of the great Squire Western, Sirrah? She is his only Daughter; she is,——and Heiress to all his great Estate.’ My Lady to be called a nasty Scotch Wh—re by such a Varlet—To be sure, I wish I had knocked his Brains out with the Punch-bowl.’

  The principal Uneasiness with which Sophia was affected on this Occasion, Honour had herself caused, by having in her Passion discovered who she was. However, as this Mistake of the Landlord sufficiently accounted for those Passages which Sophia had before mistaken, she acquired some Ease on that Account; nor could she, upon the whole, forbear smiling. This enraged Honour, and she cried, ‘Indeed, Madam, I did not think your Ladyship would have made a laughing Matter of it. To be called Whore by such an impudent low Rascal. Your Ladyship may be angry with me, for ought I know, for taking your Part, since proffered Service, they say, stinks; but to be sure I could never bear to hear a Lady of mine called Whore.—Nor will I bear it. I am sure your Ladyship is as virtuous a Lady as ever sat Foot on English Ground, and I will claw any Villain’s Eyes out who dares for to offer to presume for to say the least Word to the contrary. No body ever could say the least ill of the Character of any Lady that ever I waited upon.’

  Hinc illæ Lachrymæ; in plain Truth, Honour had as much Love for her Mistress as most Servants have, that is to say—But besides this, her Pride obliged her to support the Character of the Lady she waited on; for she thought her own was in a very close Manner connected with it. In Proportion as the Character of her Mistress was raised, hers likewise, as she conceived, was raised with it; and, on the contrary, she thought the one could not be lowered without the other.

  On this Subject, Reader, I must stop a Moment to tell thee a Story. ‘The famous Nell Gwynn,3 stepping one Day from a House where she had made a short Visit into her Coach, saw a great Mob assembled, and her Footman all bloody and dirty; the Fellow being asked by his Mistress, the Reason of his being in that Condition, answered, “I have been fighting, Madam, with an impudent Rascal who called your Ladyship a Wh—re.” “You Blockhead,” replied Mrs. Gwynn, “at this Rate you must fight every Day of your Life; why, you Fool, all the World knows it.” “Do they?” cries the Fellow, in a muttering Voice, after he had shut the Coach Door, “they shan’t call me a Whore’s Footman for all that.”’

  Thus the Passion of Mrs. Honour appears natural enough, even if it were to be no otherwise accounted for; but, in reality, there was another Cause of her Anger; for which we must beg Leave to remind our Reader of a Circumstance mentioned in the above Simile. There are indeed certain Liquors, which being applied to our Passions, or to Fire, produce Effects the very Reverse of those produced by Water, as they serve to kindle and inflame, rather than to extinguish. Among these, the generous Liquor called Punch is one. It was not therefore without Reason, that the learned Dr. Cheney used to call drinking Punch, pouring liquid Fire down your Throat.4

  Now Mrs. Honour had unluckily poured so much of this liquid Fire down her Throat, that the Smoke of it began to ascend into her Pericranium, and blinded the Eyes of Reason which is there supposed to keep her Residence, while the Fire itself from the Stomach easily reached the Heart, and there inflamed the noble Passion of Pride. So that upon the whole, we shall cease to wonder at the violent Rage of the Waiting-woman; tho’ at first sight we must confess the Cause seems inadequate to the Effect.

  Sophia, and her Cousin both, did all in their Power to extinguish these Flames which had roared so loudly all over the House. They at length prevailed; or, to carry the Metaphor one Step farther, the Fire having consumed all the Fuel which the Language affords, to wit, every reproachful Term in it, at last went out of its own Accord.

  But tho’ Tranquillity was restored above Stairs, it was not so below; where my Landlady highly resenting the Injury done to the Beauty of her Husband, by the Flesh-Spades of Mrs. Honour, called aloud for Revenge and Justice. As to the poor Man who had principally suffered in the Engagement, he was perfectly quiet. Perhaps the Blood which he lost, might have cooled his Anger: For the Enemy had not only applied her Nails to his Cheeks, but likewise her Fist to his Nostrils, which lamented the Blow with Tears of Blood in great Abundance. To this we may add Reflections on his Mistake; but indeed nothing so effectually silenced his Resentment, as the Manner in which he now discovered his Error; for as to the Behaviour of Mrs. Honour, it had the more confirmed him in his Opinion: but he was now assured by a Person of great Figure, and who was attended by a great Equipage, that one of the Ladies was a Woman of Fashion and his intimate Acquaintance.

  By the Orders of this Person, the Landlord now ascended, and acquainted our fair Travellers, that a great Gentleman below desired to do them the Honour of waiting on them. Sophia turned pale, and trembled at this Message, tho’ the Reader will conclude it was too civil, notwithstanding the Landlord’s Blunder, to have come from her Father; but Fear hath the common Fault of a Justice of Peace, and is apt to conclude hastily from every slight Circumstance, without examining the Evidence on both Sides.

  To ease the Reader’s Curiosity, therefore, rather than his Apprehensions, we proceed to inform him, that an Irish Peer had arrived very late that Evening at the Inn in his Way to London. This Nobleman having sallied from his Supper at the Hurricane before commemorated, had seen the Attendant of Mrs. Fitzpatrick, and upon a short Enquiry, was informed, that her Lady, with whom he was very particularly acquainted, was above. This Information he had no sooner received, than he addressed himself to the Landlord, pacified him, and sent him up Stairs with Compliments rather civiller than those which were delivered.

  It may perhaps be wondered at, that the Waiting-woman herself was not the Messenger employed on this Occasion; but we are sorry to say, she was not at present qualified for that, or indeed for any other Off
ice. The Rum (for so the Landlord chose to call the Distillation from Malt) had basely taken the Advantage of the Fatigue which the poor Woman had undergone, and had made terrible Depredations on her noble Faculties, at a Time when they were very unable to resist the Attack.

  We shall not describe this tragical Scene too fully; but we thought ourselves obliged by that historic Integrity which we profess, shortly to hint a Matter which we would otherwise have been glad to have spared. Many Historians indeed, for want of this Integrity, or of Diligence, to say no worse, often leave the Reader to find out these little Circumstances in the Dark, and sometimes to his great Confusion and Perplexity.

  Sophia was very soon eased of her causeless Fright by the Entry of the noble Peer, who was not only an intimate Acquaintance of Mrs. Fitzpatrick, but in Reality a very particular Friend of that Lady. To say Truth, it was by his Assistance, that she had been enabled to escape from her Husband; for this Nobleman had the same gallant Disposition with those renowned Knights, of whom we read in heroic Story, and had delivered many an imprisoned Nymph from Durance. He was indeed as bitter an Enemy to the savage Authority too often exercised by Husbands and Fathers, over the Young and Lovely of the other Sex, as ever Knight-Errant was to the barbarous Power of Enchanters: Nay, to say Truth, I have often suspected that those very Enchanters with which Romance every where abounds, were in Reality no other than the Husbands of those Days; and Matrimony itself was perhaps the enchanted Castle in which the Nymphs were said to be confined.

  This Nobleman had an Estate in the Neighbourhood of Fitzpatrick, and had been for some Time acquainted with the Lady. No sooner therefore did he hear of her Confinement, than he earnestly applied himself to procure her Liberty; which he presently effected, not by storming the Castle, according to the Example of antient Heroes; but by corrupting the Governor, in Conformity with the modern Art of War;5 in which Craft is held to be preferable to Valour, and Gold is found to be more irresistible than either Lead or Steel.

  This Circumstance, however, as the Lady did not think it material enough to relate to her Friend, we would not at that Time impart it to the Reader. We rather chose to leave him a while under a Supposition, that she had found, or coined, or by some very extraordinary, perhaps supernatural Means, had possessed herself of the Money with which she had bribed her Keeper, than to interrupt her Narrative by giving a Hint of what seemed to her of too little Importance to be mentioned.

  The Peer, after a short Conversation, could not forbear expressing some Surprize at meeting the Lady in that Place; nor could he refrain from telling her, he imagined she had been gone to Bath. Mrs. Fitzpatrick very freely answered, ‘That she had been prevented in her Purpose by the Arrival of a Person she need not mention. In short,’ says she, ‘I was overtaken by my Husband (for I need not affect to conceal what the World knows too well already.) I had the good Fortune to escape in a most surprizing Manner, and am now going to London with this young Lady, who is a near Relation of mine, and who hath escaped from as great a Tyrant as my own.’

  His Lordship concluding that this Tyrant was likewise a Husband, made a Speech full of Compliments to both the Ladies, and as full of Invectives against his own Sex; nor indeed did he avoid some oblique Glances at the matrimonial Institution itself, and at the unjust Powers given by it to Man over the more sensible, and more meritorious Part of the Species. He ended his Oration with an Offer of his Protection, and of his Coach and Six, which was instantly accepted by Mrs. Fitzpatrick, and at last, upon her Persuasions, by Sophia.

  Matters being thus adjusted, his Lordship took his Leave, and the Ladies retired to Rest, where Mrs. Fitzpatrick entertained her Cousin with many high Encomiums on the Character of the noble Peer, and enlarged very particularly on his great Fondness for his Wife; saying, she believed he was almost the only Person of high Rank, who was entirely constant to the Marriage Bed. ‘Indeed,’ added she, ‘my dear Sophy, that is a very rare Virtue amongst Men of Condition. Never expect it when you marry; for, believe me, if you do, you will certainly be deceived.’

  A gentle Sigh stole from Sophia at these Words, which perhaps contributed to form a Dream of no very pleasant Kind; but as she never revealed this Dream to any one, so the Reader cannot expect to see it related here.

  CHAPTER IX.

  The Morning introduced in some pretty Writing. A Stage Coach. The Civility of Chambermaids. The heroic Temper of Sophia. Her Generosity. The Return to it. The Departure of the Company, and their Arrival at London; with some Remarks for the Use of Travellers.

  Those Members of the Society, who are born to furnish the Blessings of Life, now began to light their Candles, in order to pursue their daily Labours, for the Use of those who are born to enjoy these Blessings. The sturdy Hind now attends the Levee of his Fellow Labourer the Ox; the cunning Artificer, the diligent Mechanic spring from their hard Mattress; and now the bonny Housemaid begins to repair the disordered Drum-Room,1 while the riotous Authors of that Disorder, in broken interrupted Slumbers tumble and toss, as if the Hardness of Down disquieted their Repose.

  In simple Phrase, the Clock had no sooner struck Seven, than the Ladies were ready for their Journey; and at their Desire, his Lordship and his Equipage were prepared to attend them.

  And now a Matter of some Difficulty arose; and this was how his Lordship himself should be conveyed: For tho’ in Stage-Coaches, where Passengers are properly considered as so much Luggage, the ingenious Coachman stows half a Dozen with perfect Ease into the Place of four: for well he contrives that the fat Hostess, or well-fed Alderman, may take up no more Room than the slim Miss, or taper Master; it being the Nature of Guts, when well squeezed, to give Way, and to lie in a narrow Compass; yet in these Vehicles which are called, for Distinction-sake, Gentlemens Coaches, tho’ they are often larger than the others, this Method of packing is never attempted.

  His Lordship would have put a short End to the Difficulty, by very gallantly desiring to mount his Horse; but Mrs. Fitzpatrick would by no means consent to it. It was therefore concluded that the Abigails should by Turns relieve each other on one of his Lordship’s Horses, which was presently equipped with a Side-Saddle for that Purpose.

  Every Thing being settled at the Inn, the Ladies discharged their former Guides, and Sophia made a Present to the Landlord, partly to repair the Bruise which he had received under herself, and partly on Account of what he had suffered under the Hands of her enraged Waiting-woman. And now Sophia first discovered a Loss which gave her some Uneasiness; and this was of the hundred Pound Bank-Bill which her Father had given her at their last Meeting; and which, within a very inconsiderable Trifle, was all the Treasure she was at present worth. She searched every where, and shook and tumbled all her Things to no Purpose, the Bill was not to be found: And she was at last fully persuaded that she had lost it from her Pocket, when she had the Misfortune of tumbling from her Horse in the dark Lane, as before recorded. A Fact that seemed the more probable, as she now recollected some Discomposure in her Pockets which had happened at that Time, and the great Difficulty with which she had drawn forth her Handkerchief the very Instant before her Fall, in order to relieve the Distress of Mrs. Fitzpatrick.

  Misfortunes of this Kind, whatever Inconveniences they may be attended with, are incapable of subduing a Mind in which there is any Strength, without the Assistance of Avarice. Sophia therefore, tho’ nothing could be worse timed than this Accident, at such a Season, immediately got the better of her Concern, and with her wonted Serenity and Cheerfulness of Countenance, returned to her Company. His Lordship conducted the Ladies into the Vehicle, as he did likewise Mrs. Honour, who, after many Civilities, and more Dear Madams, at last yielded to the well-bred Importunities of her Sister Abigail, and submitted to be complimented with the first Ride in the Coach; in which indeed she would afterwards have been contented to have pursued her whole Journey, had not her Mistress, after several fruitless Intimations, at length forced her to take her Turn on Horseback.

  The Coach now having received
its Company, began to move forwards, attended by many Servants, and by two led Captains,2 who had before rode with his Lordship, and who would have been dismissed from the Vehicle upon a much less worthy Occasion, than was this of accommodating two Ladies. In this they acted only as Gentlemen; but they were ready at any Time to have performed the Office of a Footman, or indeed would have condescended lower, for the Honour of his Lordship’s Company, and for the Convenience of his Table.

  My Landlord was so pleased with the Present he had received from Sophia, that he rather rejoiced in than regretted his Bruise, or his Scratches. The Reader will perhaps be curious to know the Quantum of this Present; but we cannot satisfy his Curiosity. Whatever it was, it satisfied the Landlord for his bodily Hurt; but he lamented he had not known before how little the Lady valued her Money; ‘For to be sure,’ says he, ‘one might have charged every Article double, and she would have made no Cavil at the Reckoning.’

  His Wife however was far from drawing this Conclusion; whether she really felt any Injury done to her Husband more than he did himself, I will not say; certain it is, she was much less satisfied with the Generosity of Sophia. ‘Indeed,’ cries she, ‘my Dear, the Lady knows better how to dispose of her Money than you imagine. She might very well think we should not put up such a Business without some Satisfaction, and the Law would have cost her an infinite deal more than this poor little Matter, which I wonder you would take.’ ‘You are always so bloodily wise,’ quoth the Husband: ‘It would have cost her more, would it? Dost fancy I don’t know that as well as thee? But would any of that more, or so much, have come into our Pockets? Indeed, if Son Tom the Lawyer had been alive, I could have been glad to have put such a pretty Business into his Hands. He would have got a good Picking out of it; but I have no Relation now who is a Lawyer, and why should I go to Law for the Benefit of Strangers?’ ‘Nay, to be sure,’ answered she, ‘you must know best.’ ‘I believe I do,’ replied he. ‘I fancy when Money is to be got, I can smell it out as well as another. Every body, let me tell you, would not have talked People out of this. Mind that, I say; every body would not have cajoled this out of her, mind that.’ The Wife then joined in the Applause of her Husband’s Sagacity; and thus ended the short Dialogue between them on this Occasion.